Books like Little Fish — picked by fans

In this book, Alison Bechdel is obsessed with the triangular relationship between one’s parents, oneself, and literature, and, in my poetry, so am I.

Our parents are either puzzles we can solve or mysteries we cannot, but still we have to try. And in this book, again and again, Bechdel takes those insights and moments of beauty that literature offers, investigates her father’s life and death, and in this book (as well as the follow-up, Are You My Mother?), the meaning of her mother’s choices as well.

Now that I think of it, Fun Home is the story of how literature is always the child of what an author experiences in their life and what they read, the two brimming over into the impulse to make more words, understand more life. 

The sardonic humor is what grabbed me first. But as I gleefully zipped through this story of a lesbian’s coming of age in a repressive Pentecostal church, the author was quietly raising the stakes. She delivers profound observations of how family expectations disproportionately damage queer people. Religion always complicates such stories.

As a gay man who grew up Catholic, I was entranced by how the book deals with faith. When the protagonist starts to understand her own sexual impulses, the power and depth of human emotion also dawn on her. Her religion and family don’t have satisfying answers, and so she creates her own kind of faith. Reading how she does it was incredibly moving for me. 

This novel was like gravity; I felt like the author dropped me into the 70-year storyline, and I was powerless to stop myself from falling through its many layers. Each character was so vivid and whole that I cared deeply for each of them.

The connections between the different generations of gay men made me feel like I—a queer author myself—was part of a spanning, meaningful history full of ache, loss, love, and humor. 

I love any work that can draw me in by being uncanny while still being emotional. This book is such a work. It's the story of a gay bar that houses a community of cross-generational queer people who become close-knit while the world outside becomes more and more hostile to them.

Though he tells the story with distance and coldness, Neil Bartlett made me feel like I belonged in that bar, in that community. Reading how the characters clutch at meaning and love, how they embrace who they are, and how they support one another had me rooting for them (and for myself) louder every time I turned a page.

Sadia Shepard is the child of a white Protestant father from Colorado and a Muslim mother from Pakistan, who grew up outside Boston. In her visionary and moving memoir, she embarks on a search for her Bene Israel roots when her maternal grandmother, who she thought was a Muslim from Pakistan like everyone else in their family, tells her that her real name is Rachel Jacobs.

She hears about the Bene Israel community and reads about their origins. It's a fascinating account of a cross-cultural childhood, a journey to India to explore her grandmother’s family tree, discovering the secrets of her grandparents’ marriage, encountering the complicated history of India and Pakistan and the Partition, and at the same time, making sense of her complex influences and legacy. The author undertakes journeys on several levels that delve into her family history, her ancestors, her grandmother’s story, and her own identity.

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I feel like I am being hugged by a friend when I read Ronnie Riley’s work. The world within this book is so full of friendship and support, so focused on affirming language around both identity and neurodiversity, that I was grateful to have it in my hands.

Jude’s ADHD is written in a way that makes it easy for those without ADHD to understand and affirming for those who are living with it. 

The Light From Uncommon Stars is, at its sci-fi core, a story about being human and all of the messiness that comes from that state of being.

Even the aliens share a sweet humanness – a desire to find home, to find love, to find family. Plus, you can never go wrong with a donut-shop setting. This book is queer and gender-expansive, with all the beauty and trauma that comes with each.

I wouldn’t call this book cozy – and it’s worth noting that not all of the queer characters are “good queers”, but it isn’t gritty or dark – it is what it is, and isn’t that the most beautifully human thing it could be?

This story shows how an individual who loves crossword puzzles and storytelling can be affected by the disease of dementia.

Elijah notices that his grandmother Eleanor is struggling with language and figures out a way to carry on her legacy. It’s so nice to see this aspect of the disease (memory and language) addressed in a positive, helpful way.

A non-fiction recommendation this time, and a recent release.

Hennigan’s essay collection is a beautifully written account of the final years, and opaque recollections, of her grandmother Phil, who spent much of her life in various psychiatric institutions.

I have been interested in this theme for years – Ireland, in the first decades after independence from Britain, has some of the highest rates of citizen incarceration in the world: prisons, borstals, orphanages, magdalen laundries, and psychiatric hospitals both provided employment and regulation and also kept a whole population of ‘problem’ people out of sight).

This fact, and its repercussions in culture today, fascinate me, and Hennigan’s gentle and loving consideration of Phil’s trauma, loneliness, mania, and the maternal lineage it involves (her own mother was institutionalized) is also an angry illustration of just how badly women and the working class have been treated here.

An antique Chinese mirror transforms the lives’ of two women. Shay Garrett lives in the modern times and her grandmother lives in 1900. On the eve of their marriages, both women find themselves transported from one era to the other. I love this epic time-travel tale of suspense where one young woman contends with love, and identity, and knowing too much in a society far removed from the loud, freer modern times she grew up in, and another young woman deals with the confusion of a raucous world where decorum doesn’t exist, nothing makes sense, and her granddaughter's handsome fiancé is someone she hasn’t got the strength to resist.